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Good Lord. What was wrong with her? She’d been cool, calm, and totally immune to men ever since . . .
Well, ever since. And now there was Luke, and there was something about him that got to her in a way that no man had gotten to her in a very long time.
She wasn’t ready for it. Not yet.
Though it had been a lot of years. Maybe it was time she did get ready for it.
She’d made a lot of vows once she’d escaped the worst relationship of her life. And the number one vow was to never get involved with a man who hit all her hot buttons again. She’d only do safe and boring in the future.
Luke McCormack was anything but safe and boring. She could go up in flames with him, lose her sense of self. If he crooked his finger at her, she’d come running.
She’d done that once, and it had been a disaster.
Never again.
She set the oil on to heat, then peeled and sliced potatoes, the activity clearing her head. By the time Luke came in with the dogs, she had the distance she needed.
Until he came up behind her, and she inhaled the scent of him. He smelled of outdoors and something distinctly male.
“Need help?” he asked as he leaned over her shoulder.
Her breathing quickened. “I’ve got this. How about you make the patties?” Preferably somewhere far away, like Texas.
He took the meat out of the fridge and made the patties standing next to her, while she concentrated on not cutting off her finger. Hard to do since she was acutely aware of him and his big body nestled beside her.
Her kitchen was small, which meant not much maneuverability with two people in it. His elbow bumped her arm, her hip nudged his, their shoulders touched. While it didn’t seem to bother him, it bugged the hell out of her, and not in an annoying way, either. Body contact with men was off-limits, yet she found herself inching a little closer, despite her self-mandate to stay as far away from Luke as possible.
Even with potatoes frying in oil and bacon sizzling in the other pan, she could still smell him.
And he seemed utterly oblivious of her.
After piling the patties on the plate she’d provided, he asked, “How about a spatula or something to flip these?”
“Sure.” She dug out the one she used for the grill and handed it over to him.
“How do you like your burger?”
“Well done.”
He grinned. “Me, too. I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll be here cutting up condiments for the burgers and finishing up these fries. Also, if you aren’t tired of baseball, there’s a game on.”
“See? We make a great team. I’m game . . . for the game.”
She laughed, then slumped against the counter after he closed the slider.
He was funny, gorgeous, he smelled good, and he was great with animals.
And he had an awesome body, a killer smile, and hands she wanted all over her.
One hell of a time for her libido to wake up and decide it wanted men again. Especially since she and Luke had decided they could be buddies. Which put her firmly in the He’s Not Having Sex With You category.
She pulled the fries out of the oil and grated cheese, crumbled up the bacon she’d fried, then finished up making the cheese fries. By the time Luke came back in with the cooked burgers, she’d set up trays in the living room, the game was on, and she had lettuce, onions, and tomato set out on the counter, along with buns and all the stuff he could possibly want to spread on his burger.
“This is a feast,” he said, as he set the platter of burgers down on the counter. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
She smiled at him. “This was no trouble at all. You’re obviously very easy to please.”
“Hey, I would have stopped for take-out on my way home, so, to me, this is a very big deal. Thanks, Emma.”
“You’re welcome.” She didn’t entertain. In fact, Luke was the first person she’d had over besides her mom. In South Carolina, she’d never had anyone over to her apartment.
Again, she had no idea what had gotten into her.
She fed the dogs in the kitchen, then they settled into watching the game and eating their burgers.
“Perfect,” she said as she took her first bite.
“You don’t get your man card unless you know how to cook a burger,” Luke said, sliding a French fry into his mouth. “And these fries are awesome.”
“Thanks. I never have anyone to fix them for, and they’re my favorites, so you actually did me a favor.”
“So what you’re saying is that you had an ulterior motive in inviting me for dinner.”
She waggled her brows. “Maybe.”
He shoved in another, chewed, then cast a smile her way. “I can accept that I was used to satisfy your lust for bacon cheese fries. I’m glad I was here to help you out. You just let me know whenever the urge strikes. I’ll help you satisfy your cravings.”
She took a deep breath. Yeah, she had a list of services she’d like him to perform for her. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
His gaze met hers, and suddenly, she didn’t believe either of them were thinking about fries anymore.
SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN the ballpark that day and dinner that night, something major had changed in the atmosphere between Luke and Emma. He’d picked up some seriously hot signals from her, both at the park and over dinner. And yeah, maybe he’d inadvertently thrown out a come-on with that line about satisfying her cravings, but he’d actually been talking about food.
Until she’d shot him a hungry look that had nothing to do with French fries, and everything to do with sex.
He thought they’d been on the same wavelength. He’d had a great time with her. She was easy to be with. She was fun, had a great sense of humor, and for a woman, wasn’t demanding at all, something he found refreshing.
And she’d even cooked him dinner instead of making him dress up and take her out somewhere. Not much more he could ask for in a woman. Sure, he wouldn’t mind taking her to bed—after all, she was hot, but he’d resigned himself to the fact that Emma was off-limits in that department.
Until she started throwing out those sex signs. He knew he wasn’t misreading them, either. A guy had to be dead to miss that signal. He wasn’t dead, and neither was his dick.
He focused on finishing his food, likely better than thinking about how soft her hair looked, or the way she licked her lips every time she took a bite of her burger. Because if his thoughts kept leaning in that direction, it would only get him in trouble, especially since she kept looking at him in ways that were definitely not “Hey, let’s be best buddies” kind of ways.
And Emma seemed to notice he was looking back.
“I think I’ll go clean up in the kitchen.” She pushed back her chair and hightailed it out of the dining room. Now she was uncomfortable. He grabbed his plate and followed her into the kitchen. He leaned in to rinse his plate under the running water, catching a whiff of the sweet scent in her hair.
Vanilla, maybe?
She turned to glance at him, and there was that deer-in-the-headlights look again.
She snatched the plate away from him. “I’ve got that. Why don’t you—”
He waited, deciding she should figure out what she wanted. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why don’t I what?”
“Uh . . . never mind.”
Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the pot she’d cooked the fries in. “Where do you want me to dump this oil?”
“I can do that.”
“So can I, Emma.”
“Trash can is fine.”
He dumped the oil, then brought the pan over to the sink. She washed it, and he grabbed the towel hanging next to the sink to dry.
“You really don’t have to help.”
“You really can’t stop me if I want to.”
She took a deep breath, then handed him the clean pot, her slippery hands colliding with his. “Thanks.”
Even being friends with a woman was complicated. They were better relegated to sex partners, and leaving it at that. He should have known this would never work out. He was way too attracted to Emma to be this close to her and not touch her, not want to kiss her.
And she seemed to be struggling with it, too, which made him wonder what the problem was—other than maybe she only had relationships, and she’d had a bad one, just like he had, so she’d like to steer clear of entanglements.
But it had been a long time since he’d had a fun day like he’d had today, and he’d like to see where it went with Emma. Not relationship-wise, but they had off-the-charts chemistry, and he sure wanted to explore that part of it.
So when she turned the water off and dried her hands, he made his move, stepping toward her as she turned around.
She moved into him at the same time he wrapped his arms around her.
Their lips met in a collision that rocked him hard in an instant. Her mouth opened and his tongue slid inside, and it was an explosion of fireworks. He pushed her against the counter with his body and her fingers tangled in his hair.
The room suddenly seemed devoid of oxygen, both of them gasping for breath as Luke deepened the kiss.
Yeah, it was just like he thought it would be—all hot and fiery passion. He let his hands roam her back, touching her the way he’d wanted to touch her since he’d first laid eyes on her, mapping every luscious curve while she tightened her hold on his hair, every whimper escaping her throat making him painfully harder.
And when he caressed her ribs and coasted his hand over the curve of her hip, she moaned against his mouth. He kissed his way along her jaw and down the column of her throat, listening to the hard and fast sound of her breathing.
He turned her around and pulled her against him, lifting her T-shirt out of her jeans so he could palm the soft skin of her stomach.
“Tell me yes,” he said. “Or tell me no. You decide.”
She flipped around to face him, twining her arms around his neck. He felt the hard thump of her fast heartbeat against his chest. “Yes. Now stop talking.”
He took her mouth again, that same frenzied need making him dizzy. He grabbed her butt and lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him.
“Bedroom,” he said.
She pointed, and that’s all the direction he needed. He found her bedroom, the only open door down the hall. He put her down next to the bed and pulled his shirt off. She was already out of her tennis shoes and unzipping her jeans.
He liked a woman of action. And as she shimmied out of her jeans, he really enjoyed the revealing of skin and the fact she seemed to be in as much of a hurry as he was to get clothes off.
He shucked his sneakers and jeans, then pushed her down on the bed, coming down on top of her.
Oh yeah. Now this was good, especially her legs twining with his.
She gasped as their bodies connected.
“Did I mention I’m a big fan of pink underwear?” he asked.
She reached up to brush her fingers through his hair. “No. I don’t believe that topic came up during the baseball game today.”
“Huh.” He lifted up and ran his fingers over the swell of her breasts where the cups of her bra met flesh. “I’m surprised. It was on my mind.”
He watched as her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. “It was?”
“Sure. I was sitting there, watching the game and imagining what color underwear you had on.”
She frowned. “You were not.”
He laughed, rolled over and dragged her on top of him, then pulled her ponytail holder out, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. “Emma, all guys think about women. And sex. Almost all the time.”
“You were thinking about baseball.”
He gripped her hips and arched against her, letting her feel how hard he was. “I’m not thinking about baseball now.”
“Neither am I.”
